


possibly i like the thrill

by Mira



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-01
Updated: 2007-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:57:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira/pseuds/Mira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John loves that Rodney loves watching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	possibly i like the thrill

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Bring Back the Porn](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/bbtp_challenge/) challenge. Beta by [Lilithilien](http://lilithilien.insanejournal.com). Thank you!

John loves the weight of Rodney on him. He's a sturdy guy, firmer now than when they first stepped into the great hall of Atlantis, but still a bit softer than John. "You're all elbows and clavicle," Rodney's complained more than once, but John doesn't mind, not when he's buried under a blanket of Rodney.

"Your feet are like ice," Rodney whines when John first comes to bed, but he doesn't pull away, and he puts out heat like a naquadah furnace, if there are such things, and he drapes himself over John, grunting and humming as he settles back to sleep. John kisses the knob of a nearby shoulder, shuts his eyes, and lets himself feel safe.

In the field, John admires Rodney's many talents. His focus, of course; his attention to detail; his ability to see past diversions and distractions and remain on task. He enjoys Rodney's litany of complaints more than he should; John was taught never explain and never complain, no matter how awful the conditions or job, but now he has Rodney to do that for him. Explain _and_ complain, vociferously and at high volume.

John likes the rare nights they spend off Atlantis on yet another world, under yet another sky full of alien stars. The team sitting hunched around a fire flickering in the strange scented night, Rodney warming his hands or sniffing at the smell of dinner or worrying about taking a dump with alien bugs and critters watching him.

Rodney makes him smile. Not much in John's life has been smile-inducing, and certainly not the last few years. John can smile charmingly when the situation requires it and when he wants something, but not much just makes him smile.

Rodney does.

"Ow, dammit, I bent my nail back again, look at that, Colonel." John, Teyla, and Ronon gaze at Rodney's fingernail; John can't see a thing wrong with it.

He lightly slaps Rodney's back. "To work, McKay, or we'll never get back in time for the casserole surprise."

"God, don't remind me. At least citrus is hard to come by out here; back on Earth, I had to worry all the time. Lemon chicken at least once a week. I swear the mess hall at the SGC was trying to kill me."

"The mess hall was? What, a physical location attempted murder?"

Rodney rolls his eyes, and John smiles. Ronon makes a rude noise behind him, and John knows if he turns around that Teyla would be smiling as well, but at John, not at Rodney. Or only a little at Rodney. But John doesn't need to turn around. He knows all that already.

"Ow!" Rodney shakes his hand again.

"Let me," John says, and takes the tiny screwdriver from Rodney. "Don't we have some Ancient tool to do this?"

"What, like a sonic screwdriver?"

"That would be cool, but I was thinking more of some kind of electric or battery-powered screwdriver. I mean, what did _they_ use?"

"That's actually a good question. I wonder if Radek knows. We've never found any tools this size. Unless he's keeping them from me. Probably is, just to see me break my fingernails on the damn things."

"There," John says, and stands back to give Rodney access. "What is it?"

"Life, the universe, and everything," Rodney says. "Also, a really big light switch." He waves at it and the corridor they're in lights up.

"Really big," Ronon says, and points. John watches as lights in the corridor came on in pairs, stretching on and on.

"Holy shit," Rodney says, and John agrees.

"Any other energy sources?" he asks.

Rodney stares at his laptop, then down the corridor. "No."

"No?" John looks at Ronon and Teyla. "Just no? You never say just 'no.'"

Rodney glares at him. "No. This is all there is. A million miles of really well-lit underground corridor."

"Waste of time," Ronon says, and turns to go.

"Not originally," Rodney says in a smaller voice than John likes to hear. All three turn back to him. John watches him closely. "It's just --" He stops abruptly. "Let's get back."

"Rodney," Teyla says. "It's just what?"

They all watch him as he fidgets, his fingers restless, his mouth unhappy. "How often have we done this? Found something in a zillion-year-old database, rushed off, risked our health and wasted our time locating whatever _it_ was, only to discover it's a: a trap, b: used by children, c: tapped out, or in this case, d: worthless."

"Surely a power source of this magnitude is not worthless, Rodney," Teyla protests.

He shrugs. "You're right. It's not entirely worthless. But it's not worth my time. It's not even worth _Zelenka's_ time." He shrugs again.

Ronon slaps him on the shoulder. "Buck up, McKay. Got you a little exercise." He pats Rodney's stomach. "You look more fit now than when I first met you. That's worth something."

"At least I'm not hanging upside down from a tree," Rodney agrees, but John thinks he looks rueful.

"That mystery casserole's waiting," he reminds them, and herds them back up the corridor.

"And you have minions waiting to be harassed, do you not, Rodney?" Teyla asks, a smile lighting her beautiful face.

John laughs, a short bark. "You have got to stop hanging out with Rodney," he tells her.

Late that night when they finally meet in their quarters, John says to Rodney, "It wasn't really a waste." Rodney is still damp from the shower, drying his hair while staring in the mirror.

"Yes, yes, nothing's ever really a waste in the Pegasus Galaxy," Rodney says, tossing the towel over the back of a chair. He sits heavily on the bed. "But we never seem to get much ahead, either."

John kneels by the bed between Rodney's legs, and puts his hands on Rodney's knees. "Not much ahead?" He slowly moves his hands up Rodney's thighs, enjoying the way his skin prickles at John's touch. Rodney's cock stirs, and John grins. "That's an interesting phenomenon," he says. "Anybody make observations on it?"

To his relief, Rodney laughs. "Not for a while," he says, leaning back on his elbows. His cock hardens more and they stare at it. "Maybe," he starts to say, but John nuzzles his groin, rubbing his face against Rodney's balls, mouthing at them when Rodney groans. He shifts up a bit to take Rodney's cock into his mouth. Rodney falls flat on his back, hips lifting helplessly.

John loves this, loves the feel of Rodney beneath him, trembling in excitement and desire, loves that _he_ can do this. He knows Rodney's body so well by now, and knows how to tease him and draw out his pleasure. He pushes his erection against the side of the bed, the pressure against his cock a relief, but most of his attention he gives to Rodney.

His face is wet with his own saliva when he sits back, thighs shaking, and Rodney hauls him up on the bed, this time John on his back. "Throw a leg over," John tries to joke, but he's serious; he wants the weight of Rodney on him, the feel of his skin: his hairy legs, his strong thighs, his substantial pelvis, what John calls his _child-bearing hips_ , his belly, his chest, the tickle of his erect nipples, his broad shoulders and firm biceps, all of Rodney over him.

"Let me," he gasps, and Rodney rises and climbs up until his cock is in front of John's face. John wraps his hands around Rodney's hips, fingers cluthing his ass, and sucks his cock, letting Rodney set the pace this time, obedient to his desire.

"Yeah," Rodney pants, "God, shit, oh, _John_ ," and he doesn't last long after all this. When he's quiet, John slips his fingers to the crease in Rodney's ass, fingering his hole loose from his orgasm, and Rodney pushes back, groaning.

John slides out from under Rodney, the air cool against his sweaty skin, and lies on top of him, trapping his dick between his stomach and Rodney's ass. "Just, fucking, do, it," Rodney huffs, catching his breath. "Come _on_ ,"  
and they're both so ready, Rodney relaxed and John hard as he's ever been, and when he finally pushes inside Rodney, clutching his shoulders, shuddering, he gives himself to Rodney and comes, his head pressed between Rodney's shoulder blades.

When he can relax a bit, he kisses Rodney's back, rubbing his face against the firm skin there, and Rodney says, "Ow, oh, you need another shave, Colonel," and John laughs. They come apart slowly, sadly, and lie face to face on the mussed bed. "I need another shower," Rodney says fondly.

"So do I," John says, and leers at Rodney.

"A thrill a minute," Rodney says, eyes closing.

"Wake up, wake up," John says, shaking him gently. "Shower, straighten bed, get under the covers, then sleep."

"Mmm," Rodney agrees, but he pulls John to him, and John kisses the knob of Rodney's shoulder. No longer new, still exciting, but comforting now, their bodies at home with each other. He lies there for a minute, but he's too sweaty and wants to brush his teeth, so carefully rolls away. Let Rodney sleep, he thinks, but Rodney opens his eyes and stretches. "All right, all right," he says, and watches John, who can feel the weight of Rodney even away from him, the weight of Rodney's awareness, and he loves that Rodney loves watching him.

  


* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the e. e. cummings' poem:
> 
> i like my body when it is with your  
> body. It is so quite new a thing.  
> Muscles better and nerves more.  
> i like your body. i like what it does,  
> i like its hows. i like to feel the spine  
> of your body and its bones, and the trembling  
> -firm-smooth ness and which i will  
> again and again and again  
> kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,  
> i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz  
> of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes  
> over parting flesh. . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
> 
> and possibly i like the thrill
> 
> of under me you so quite new


End file.
